


slip my hand from your hand

by asemic



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Alcohol, Corporal Punishment, F/M, First Time, Frequenting a Prostitute, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 03:48:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18086852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asemic/pseuds/asemic
Summary: John Irving in firsts and lasts.





	slip my hand from your hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dottore_polidori](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dottore_polidori/gifts).



> Dedicated to dottore_polidori/somdomite. Please enjoy this little gift.

Sodomite. 

Three syllables with the last with a heavy finality to the word, the harsh _t_ the flail crack against bare skin. 

That’s how they’re punished: spread the limbs apart and the cat licks the flesh red then scores it ragged. _Not the kitty men desire,_ became a laugh, the men knowing it was not them, it would never be them. They had women nearby waiting to be paid and willing to kneel and praise and bend and gasp. 

And the mids? They watched but their focus drifted on the women they lacked, nightly hushed sounds and the wet slaps. Regulations memorized became discipline witnessed, some knowing they would take the chance and risk being caught to obey their nature, their yards angling with ease. The majority cared not a whit; soon they’d jangle their pockets and watch women kneel and praise and bend for them. As for the rest, they swallowed and choked upon their fears and denied, slipped into line. 

John Irving wished to hear the clinking of money, but he only heard his own cries, felt the lash, and needles spiking in his throat. John Irving tripped into place.

*

His first.

His uncle’s favorite smacked his buttocks and urged him to go ahead. After all, he was well overdue. And he did and quickly did he finish. He sat embarrassed with the sheet held to his neck until she shared tales of men older and more experienced spending too soon. _Oh, good lad, you’ll be taking your lieutenant’s examination soon!_ and she admired his cleverness when he summed and multiplied whatever numbers she provided until he worked the nerve to try again. And then again. And once more, his skin glowing with her praise. _You’ll make a worthy husband to a fortunate woman_ and his smile faltered slightly, but neither noticed.

*

His first.

Another passed mid from a sixth-rate needed a room and John took pity on the shy, shuffling man. He walked between tables with money enough in his pocket to share, but not enough for his own. The mop of blond hair and innocent blue eyes cast hopeful looks upon anyone who happened to meet his, John included. He clutched his strapped books tighter to his chest and smiled. John tossed caution aside and did the charitable thing. 

“I can share.” And like that John gained a roommate. 

What George Simmons lacked in conversation, he certainly made up with cleverness. Shyness would be his weakness, likewise his inability to confront, but John admired his mental flexibility having adapted to his chess strategy in a way both frustrating and educating. Soon sleep became unavoidable, their yawns and fatigue grinding their game to a halt. 

Both retreated to perform their nightly rituals. John slipped into bed quite grateful for a bit of comfort though he did miss the hammock’s sway. Peering over his Bible he watched George kick his trousers into the corner. Compared to his ruddy face and tanned hands he was quite pale. His eyes darted back to the page though he could not do anything but re-read the same word. Another splash and he drifted his attention back to George’s lightly furred thighs and rounded buttocks. With a slightly strangled sound, he snapped the Bible shut and buried his head into the pillow. 

The blankets fluttered and shifted, the mattress dipped, pulling John slightly towards the center. 

“Thank you for sharing. I’d be still wandering without your generosity.” 

“You were in need.” His feet brushed against an ankle and quickly retreated. “My apologies.” He shared beds before, but never with this level of awkward flutterings. 

“None needed.” 

The bed was spacious, but they kept to the sides and woke in the middle, John with his face in George’s chest and a cock pressing into his thigh. His own held thick, a morning erection like others, but not easily hidden. When they realized, they did not part or laugh it off. With deadly seriousness they remained, John following the bend of his bedmate’s lower lip, his warm complexion. He froze when fingers traced him, but he did not protest. Four breaths and he reached out, accepting a passive position and let George rub. Their hands linked, then separated while John grasped the headboard. He kept his movements slight to not make noise, but it was enough to part John’s mouth in pleasure to better take George’s tongue.

They cleaned up and dressed, milling around with the rest before their meal. Throughout it, John worried he smelled like semen. The parted for the day and returned in the evening. With the covers drawn to their chests, the silence and denial grew oppressive. If George could not confront then John knew he must take the lead. Tentatively he slid his hand until it was caught in a confident grip. John drew him closer and tilted his face and accepted his kisses.

*

His last.

She was comely with small breasts and no waist, her body shaped with loose lacings. Her dress was worn, her hands worn, her face tired, but she forced a smile though her eyes were tired. And he was suddenly so very tired.

*

His last.

If he was a stronger man he would not have placed himself in this situation. To hold himself with the Grace and Dignity of a Christian was the proper choice, for him to not fall apart and allow his weaknesses to show. But John retreated from the crushed ship, the groaning ice, the finger-numbing cold seeping into his bones to grate them together. All he wanted was to enjoy a nip and not be him. He was off watch, the ship was listing, and the number of Terrorites shrank. At least the men on the Erebus didn’t have to brace themselves against the near constant incline. 

The gin burned his broken lips and splashed over his peeled cuticles. He did not mind as it served a purpose. This was God’s plan and it included tucking himself in a storage area with his knees drawn to his chest. 

The door slipped open and he staggered to stand, knocking items from their shelves. At least they were linens and nothing breakable save for the bottle. That he could not hide fast enough from Hickey’s sharp eyes. Of all the men. His pride threatened to crack, but it was the only thing keeping him from cowering. He snorted and replaced the cap and dared him to act. Hickey merely slipped into the dark, cramped space and gingerly sat down. 

“Do as you will. You need your relief.” 

“I need to leave.” 

“We are off duty.”

John collapsed to the floor. “My duties never end.” 

“Respectfully, there is little left to do on this ship. And you’ve been drinking.” 

John snorted. “I needed a brief respite. You live in a world of breaks whereas I perform my duties and am allowed a moment to myself.” 

“In a storage area.” 

“My berth, it lists. I sleep on the floor because the bed is too angled.”

A curious sound. “I don’t follow. You sleep in here?”

“No! In my berth. Here made sense at the time.” 

Hickey smacked his mouth open. “The hammocks help.” 

“I cannot move in them.” 

“They sway.” 

“The sound. I cannot abide by the sound.” 

Hickey returned the bottle, John realizing only now they’d been passing it between them. “Do you believe Captain Crozier and Commander Fitzjames are capable of leading us from the ice?”

John’s head snapped up and the word formed on his tongue but refused to exit. He swirled another sip and swallowed it down. 

“Lieutenant?” 

“Ye-yes. Yes.”

“Yes. And the nightmare? What do you know of the creature?”

John raised the bottle and peered at Hickey through it. Merely a shifting shadow in the darkness with the only light entering from the cracks between boards. “Our Faith will bring us home.”

“Surely. We ought to get you back to your room. I will peer out so no one sees us, hm?”

With the bottle secured up his sleeve John followed Hickey, quite grateful no one could see his unsteady gait. The damn door jammed and had to be forced open by both men. A sorry state to match him, John’s room was bare save for the mattress he replaced on the bed upon waking and immediately needed things. Everything else he shoved into storage lest they become victims of gravity.

“A hammock would do you better.” 

“Do you care?”

A sigh. “In the capacity where I am reliant upon command provide for us. We need you, Lieutenant.”

John dropped to the floor and pushed his heels down to keep him comfortable. Hickey watched him with something akin to pity then joined him. “You can leave.” 

“And go where?”

“Mr. Gibson’s side.”

A cruel statement and one driven by his frustration. Hickey’s lips set and he yanked the gin bottle from John’s hand. He took a sharp gulp and held it out of reach. “You ought to be glad we are here and not home.”

“Are you threatening me?”

His eyes rolled and John fell forward, unused to drinking anything so strong in a short time. He supported himself with pressed palms to the wall outside Hickey’s shoulders and leaned in as close as he could dare, noses nearly touching. “Answer me, Mr. Hickey. Cornelius Hickey, a strange little Irishman with nary an accent. A mystery. Threatening me.”

“I do not threaten you. You layer your cruelty between the pages of your Bible. I aid you and you lash me again.” He nudged the bottle to John’s lips and tried to tilt the alcohol in, but the angle was incorrect. “Your hand deemed me dirty.”

“Your actions did. Drink, but know even semen’s bitter taste cannot be washed away by gin.” 

His eyes sparked with sudden understanding and lit John’s feet to the fire. “Bitter? Oh. You know then? Whose seed, yours or another's?”

John scrabbled to shove him to the wall, but Hickey fought back. Though wiry he was deceptively strong even when loosened with alcohol. He shoved John to the floor and pressed the side of his face to the wood. John’s boots thudded against the wall, fighting against the ship and Hickey. His chin was suddenly grabbed and the bottle held over his lips until a steady stream of liquid poured into his mouth. It took a few splutters before he ended his struggles, gulping what he could the rest flowing over his cheeks and his neck, wetting his hair and soaking his scarf. 

“Men think their spendings taste sweet, but we know, don’t we? Why draw me to your side if not for the potential of a press. Devious seducer.” Hickey choked out a laugh and leaned over him, lapping long lines across his gin wet cheeks. John bucked because he felt the heat of his groin. How quickly he fell from his place only to trip down the stairs into something terrible. He twisted his face not to avoid his tongue, but to feel it against his mouth and let it drag and dip between parted lips. Hickey laughed and turned John into a source of amusement. He wished God to take him, to wrap him in a shroud and fly him to Heaven. 

“Say no and I’ll leave, remaining silent about your drunkenness and dirtiness. But I know you will say yes so I will fuck you. We’ll pray before and after for your soul, mine already condemned to the coldest bowels of the Arctic.” 

“You understand yourself then.” Look how Hickey lived to disobey. John followed and swallowed himself down only to end up on his back, gin-soaked on a listing ship slowly crushed by a maw of unforgiving ice. He met another when he accepted another sweep of his darting tongue and experienced nothing like a kiss. 

“Your cock understands, Lieutenant. Let your mind enjoy this and drift somewhere endless and far from here.” 

Maybe, maybe. His denial may continue again after and God can forgive the repentant. With every blink, he caught new dimensions of Hickey, his blue eyes, the ice-burned cheeks dotted with freckles. If it weren’t for John’s knowledge of his personality, he would find him handsome. But his knife sharpened nose and narrow chin gave him the impression of a blade, hewn by God for a purpose. Unknown to all but Him. 

“Anywhere but here,” John whispered. Devious seducer and John’s resolve crumbled, soaked with alcohol and worn by his existence. His answer was simple when he slipped the scarf from his throat with a stuttering motion. Hickey smiled with cream licked lips. 

He wished to see Hickey as he did before, thin and nude with sweat glistening along his skin. Trembling. He looked so beautiful when they untied him, stood him up with his muscles stretched and twitching. They unwrapped one another like a present, like a prize, but Hickey won. His wicked game resulted in John’s slops being yanked off and tossed to the side. But every bit of Hickey he exposed left him content with his second place medal.

They smelled like men trapped and laboring to stay warm, but John did not care. His face fit in the curve of his armpit and he inhaled. When he exhaled he heard a faint sound like laughter, but nothing at all like the sarcastic or vaguely amused noises he made. If he dipped his tongue would he draw the same tickle? 

Yes. 

“Now, now. I said I’d fuck you proper.” Hickey guided him to the floor until they were wedged against the wall. John nodded and thought of George. He ought to be someplace where they appreciated his intelligence. Surely now he played chess, the pieces clacking the board as he impressed all. A clever mind should climb the ranks and not be wasted. John’s legs lifted and he felt a wetness between his buttocks. 

Hickey adjusted their positions once again. A sudden sharpness and fullness forced his breath from his lungs in a throaty exhale. John reached overhead to tuck his fingers under the bolted trunk. There seemed to be energy in the moment but he could not tell if it was shared. Perhaps a kiss would pass it between them so John pursed his lips and tilted his chin. It took him an eternity to realize he would receive no affection. His smile faltered. Hickey noticed.


End file.
